


PTA Ineffable Husbands

by Peazecatch



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Adoptive Parents - Freeform, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley steals the babies, Dad Aziraphale, Gay Parents, Linda's a BITCH, PTA Aziraphale, PTA Crowley, Protective Crowley, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), dad crowley, dads, he forgot which one was the antichrist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peazecatch/pseuds/Peazecatch
Summary: After delivering the Antichrist, Crowley has a change of heart and decides to go back and steal the Antichrist. The problem is, he forgets which baby is the Antichrist and ends up taking the Antichrist and another baby that happened to be at the "hospital" at the same time. Frantic, he turns to Aziraphale for help. Slowly, their relationship grows stronger as they raise two boys. Eventually when the boys are in primary school, Crowley joins the PTA program and his patience is tested with other parents.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Comments: 17
Kudos: 221
Collections: Good Omens





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here's how it all started before we jump into the present :)

♦♦♦

Crowley was frantic- stressed- better say, so much he was sweating, something Aziraphale had never seen him do and figured that demons weren’t capable of doing until he saw Crowley right then. Aziraphale remembers himself being in the back room, moving things around, probably organizing a mess when he heard knocking on the door. Aziraphale stood up straight from his hunched position and looked to the front of the bookshop, cautiously. He took a few slow steps and stopped. He had closed the bookshop hours ago and it was dark out, why would anyone be knocking on the front doors? Did they not see the business hours he had posted on the door window? The knocking continued, pounding now, and it sounded impatient. Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows.

“We’re closed!” He yelled across the room.

“Aziraphale! Bloody Hell- open the doors!” A voice hissed.

Aziraphale was startled, his head cocked back at the sound of the voice. He shook his head and quickly made his way to the door, unlocking several locks and opening it.

“Crowley? What are you-”

Crowley pushed through the door, brushing shoulders with Aziraphale as he hurriedly walked past him. He was holding something, a basket? “Lock the door.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth. “Now you hold on-”

“Do it, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale closed the door, locked it, and followed Crowley, demanding an explanation. Crowley slipped into the bookshop’s backroom before saying anything to Aziraphale. Oh, the audacity. Not even a hello. The angel yelled to the demon before stomping into the doorway, ready to scold for the lack of common courtesy Crowley was exhibiting. He opened his mouth and held a finger up but when he saw Crowley pacing back and forth and muttering to himself, he froze and no words left his mouth. Just a sort of stutter and a choke on consonants. He’d never seen Crowley like this before. He was holding his face in his hands and was cursing under his breath repeatedly. Aziraphale saw the basket on the coffee table and glanced at Crowley, who was finally standing still with a hand brought up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Aziraphale shifted his weight onto one leg.

“...Crowely,” Aziraphale began.

“No, before you start, lemme explain,” Crowley said rudely. Aziraphale took no offense to his tone but furrowed his eyebrows and spoke. “What’s going on, Crowley?"

“Don’t- Don’t!” Crowley threw a hand in the air and began pacing again. “I did something stupid, Angel! And I don’t need you to lecture me because it’s done, there’s no going back and I’m stuck with it now!”

“What on Earth are you talking about!?”

The basket cooed and gurgled. The two went silent. Aziraphale’s head slowly turned towards the sound, and he looked at Crowley from the corner of his eye. Crowley whined and swore, hiding his face behind his hand. The angel took a few steps and opened the basket, steadily, keeping an arms distance between him and whatever was in there. He took a good look at it. Then slowly closed it and opened the other side of the lid, staring into the basket. Aziraphale closed it gently. He was shocked.

“I-” Aziraphale struggled to find words. “Why- what? Babies? TWO of them?!”

Crowley nodded, still staring at the floor.

“I don’t know what has gotten into you, but you will return these infants, now. Where did you even get them?!” Aziraphale’s voice was firm and solid but, god, so confused.

“No! Can’t do that! Not an option, Angel! Did you not hear me the first time? I fucked up!”

“You better explain yourself this instant, or Heaven help me, I’ll return them myself and throw you out,” Aziraphale said, giving him an expression that made Crowley sick to his stomach.

“I stole-,” the demon huffed, “I stole the antichrist-”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, more shocked than before now, stepping further away from the basket.

“Like I said, I can explain!”

And Crowley did, he did explain why he stole the Antichrist. It was an act of selfishness, a heinous crime in Hell and Heaven’s eyes and that was why no one could know. No one except Aziraphale, of course. Ever since Aziraphale had given him the thermos of holy water, Crowley knew he could trust this angel with his existence.

Neither of them wanted the end of the world to take place, especially not this soon. It was too close already, and Crowley was torn about it. No more wine, no more stylish clothes, no more music, and especially no more Bentley. And to top it all off, he was the one who had to deliver the Devourer of Worlds, the Angel of Darkness, the literal Son of Satan. It all relied on him. He received his instructions and followed them, just as he was told to. The father outside the hospital said “delivery room 3”, so that’s where he went. He dropped off the baby to Sister Loquacious and headed back to his car. The father was gone by the time he left the building, must’ve gone inside. Crowley got into his car and started the engine and then...just sat there. He sat there for a long time, contemplating for what felt like minutes but was actually hours. What was going through this demon’s head was a mystery, not even he knew exactly. Thoughts and feelings were taking control. The longer he sat, the stronger they became, and he was thinking so much he wasn’t thinking anymore and feelings became impulses and eventually he acted on them. Crowley got out and ran up the steps into the building. He was sweating, he couldn’t believe he was actually doing this but he was going to now that he decided he was. Jogging down the hall, he scanned the doors. Room 3- no wait, 2? Room 3 or 2?

He took a peek into room 3. Then room 2. Fuck, fuck, fuck, two? Which one is it? He took a peek into room 3 again. He didn’t know her name, but Deirdre Young was asleep in her bed and the baby was also asleep in it’s bed beside hers. He looked in room 2 a second time and Harriet Dowling was the same, her baby also by her side. He had to assume that the Nuns had already made the switch and the Antichrist was with it’s new family, so one of those two babies was the Son of Satan and the child he was going to kidnap.

He stepped into Mrs. Dowling’s room, making sure his footsteps were quiet. Crowley kept the door open, fearing that it would disturb the mother's sleep if he closed it. It was also a quick exit. He stepped towards the baby until he was standing beside it, looking down at it’s pink, sleeping face. Nothing peculiar about it, no horns or a tail, though Crowley wished it showed some sort of similarity to its father so that it would make this whole situation easier. By the snap of his fingers, the same basket that held the Antichrist earlier appeared in his hand. A wave of dread went over Crowley, then doubt. What was he doing-Why was he doing this? He didn’t want the world to end, that’s why. He wouldn’t be able to prevent it either way but maybe he can influence it in some way. He didn’t know. Vaguely, in his head, he understood and what he was doing made sense. But when he actually started to think it through, nothing he was doing made any sense. But the demon Crowley was already doing it and he wasn’t known for backing out of a situation.

Crowley had placed the sleeping baby in the basket, surprisingly quite easily. He noticed a band around the baby’s wrist with Warlock written on it. He fled to the next room. The scene was almost identical, although Crowley noticed a light peeking through the bottom of the closed bathroom door on his right. He assumed it was the father, perhaps the diplomat, but he couldn’t be sure. He quickly tiptoed to the baby, keeping the basket steady, and examined the infant. Both of the babies looked exactly the same except this baby’s wrist band said Adam. Crowley’s stomach jumped when Deirdre shifted in her bed. He stared at her completely still until he was sure she was still asleep. He took the sleeping, blonde haired baby and set it in the basket next to the other blonde haired baby. They were both swaddled in blankets and slept peacefully, for the time being. Crowley was disgusted that one of these “babies” was going to bring the world to an end. Now it was in his hands.

The lanky demon strolled down the echoing halls at a fast pace, focusing on keeping the basket still to keep the babies asleep. His hands were so sweaty he feared the basket would slip straight through his fingers. A nun walked past him, making eye contact with him and smiling wide. She knew who he was. He didn’t care who she was but to avoid any speculation, he nodded in her direction. They walked past each other then Crowley stopped dead in his tracks. Crowley remembered there were three babies. He glanced to his side as the nun walked down the hall. He snapped his fingers. The nun stopped and stood for a couple seconds then proceeded down the polished corridors. Crowley watched her from the corner of his eye until she disappeared into a room. Crowley waited before the nun exited the room with a cart with the third baby in it, wrapped in blankets. He turned around to the back of the nun as she pushed the baby down the achingly long hall.

He was going to follow her, to see where she would drop off the baby. But he couldn’t be there any longer. A father stepped into the corridor, looking distraught and before he could ask or call out to anyone, Crowley was gone out the doors. I can’t be here any longer, I need to go now. He stepped outside, finding two of the diplomat’s bodyguards on the steps of the hospital, smoking a cigarette. They weren’t there before. They turned and looked at him for a couple seconds.

“You’re not a nun, what are you doing here?” said the one on Crowley’s right side, a cloud of smoke releasing from his mouth.

“I’m the doctor,” said Crowley. He reached into his coat jacket and snapped his fingers, then pulled out an ID with his face on it and words that read “Dr. A. J. Crowley”, and ''OBSTETRICIAN”.

The other bodyguard pointed to the basket. “What’s in there?”

Crowley began to walk past them and down the steps. “Picnic,” He simply said. “With the wife.” He spoke the word ‘wife’ slow and unsure. “What else would a basket like this be for?”

They nodded and carried on with their own business and Crowley carried on with his. Picnic with the wife? Psh, do I look like I’d have a wife? Too easy. Crowley was relieved when he saw his Bentley. He put the babies in the back and got into the front. Starting the engine, he heard one of the babies stir but paid no attention to it. Crowley drove away from the hospital as fast as he could and went directly to Soho.

“Why did you bring them here?” Aziraphale asked.

“I didn’t know where to go,” replied Crowley.

They were both sitting on the couch now, on opposite ends, staring at the basket.

“What about the parents?” Aziraphale asked, looking anxious. Crowley scratched the back of his neck and looked away from the basket.

“There’s three babies. We have two and the other one is still at the hospital. I’m assuming and I’m hoping,” Crowley hissed, “that that extra baby isn’t the Antichrist, jus’ a normal human. But the nuns think it’s the antichrist and they will place it with the Americans. So Hell won’t suspect anything of me.”

Aziraphale was silent.

“The other family… I don’t know.”

“This is cruel,” Aziraphale blurted. “That poor mother, she will never know what happened to her baby.”

Crowley looked further away. “The nuns will cover it up, trust me, I got it all sorted.” But in reality, Crowley wasn’t entirely sure if he had it sorted. He hoped the snap of his fingers was enough. The nuns had the ‘Antichrist’, that’s all they needed. They’d set it up with the Diplomat’s family, and for the other missing the baby, they’d cover it up. The baby got sick or something, and couldn't make it through the night. But Crowley didn’t bother explaining to Aziraphale because he knew it would upset him more.

“Well,” Aziraphale pondered. “If we figure out which baby is the diplomat’s then we know which baby is the antichrist. Right?”

Crowley nodded, slowly.

A small whimper came from the basket and some rustling. Aziraphale turned his head towards it. Crowley ignored it, still looking at a pile of books Aziraphale had stacked on the ground. Aziraphale stood up which caught Crowley’s attention. The angel opened the basket and bent over.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked, looking displeased.

Aziraphale placed his hands under one of the baby’s neck and bottom, and lifted the infant out from the basket. Crowley looked even more displeased, almost disgusted. “W-Wha-- Don’t touch it!”

“Goodness gracious, lower your voice.” The angel brought the baby to his chest and held it securely. The baby wriggled, then eventually relaxed in his arms. “Antichrist or not, they’re still just babies.”

“Babies or not, one of them is a ticking time bomb, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale looked down at the baby he was holding and noticed the band on it’s wrist.

“This one’s name is Warlock.” He looked at the other baby. “And that one’s Adam.”

Crowley didn’t respond. Adam began to shift around in the basket, making small grunts and whining. Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who was still looking at that stack of books they both knew he wasn’t interested in.

“You do know,” Aziraphale started, looking away, “that they are your responsibility now.”

“Yup.”

There was a time when Crowley the demon loved children. It was never verbally expressed but Aziraphale could always tell. Perhaps it was the love he sensed emanating from Crowley when the children ran by, or possibly it was the immense sorrow he sensed from him after the flood. There was something that Crowley adored about children. Not necessarily their chubby cheeks or their soft hair, it was something held deeper within and usually quite easy to see. Personalities were one thing, but innocence was another, innocence of the world and everything in it struck Crowley in his fallen heart. Innocence isn’t taught or given, you’re created with it, until it’s taken away by either you or someone else. That’s why Crowley loved children. They had something he didn’t have but he didn’t envy them, he wanted to nurture it and keep it sacred. But ever since the flood, Aziraphale hadn’t sensed that same kind of feeling from him since.

The baby in the basket began crying and Aziraphale looked at Crowley again. He expected Crowley to move on his own, get up and comfort the baby perhaps, but no. The demon stayed seated on the couch, eyes away. Aziraphale couldn’t read him. Adam’s crying grew louder and Warlock began shifting in Aziraphale’s arms.

“I can’t hold two babies, Crowley.” Aziraphale said firmly, hoping the tone of his voice would be enough to push Crowley out of his seat.

“Sure you can…” Crowley brushed off.

Aziraphale realized his bold approach wouldn’t work this time, he had to be the angel he was. “Please hold the baby.”

Aziraphale finally saw Crowley’s eyes glance at him, and felt his face flush when he saw those golden eyes behind shades. Crowley sat there for a few seconds before letting out a brash sigh and standing up, sauntering towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale couldn’t help but to smile, glad Crowley complied. Crowley reached his hands out to Aziraphale and Aziraphale stared at them. Crolwey slightly shook his hands and shrugged, waiting for the other to give him the goddamned baby he wanted him to hold so bad. “Oh,” Aziraphale said, finally realizing why his hands were outstretched towards him. He carefully handed over Warlock.

“Make sure to support his-”

“I know,” said Crowley, already walking back to the couch.

Aziraphale reached for the baby in the basket that had kicked off the blankets it was wrapped in. He picked him up just as gently and Adam immediately stopped crying, much to Aziraphale’s surprise.

“Oh, you just wanted to be held, huh,” Aziraphale cooed. Crowley rolled his eyes.

This was Crowley, now. Whether he wanted it or not, he was a guardian, though he’d rather be called an overseer- or better, just “a demon in charge of two babies”. He’s had experience with children before but this was different. There were two this time and they were his responsibility. At least until Armageddon, so that was something to look forward to.

They stayed there the whole night. Aziraphale offered to help with the infants and surprisingly Crowley didn’t decline. They established rules- well one rule: No one can know they have the Antichrist. They agreed that Crowley should keep the babies at his flat because a dusty old bookshop was no fit environment. It was a long night of planning. Aziraphale often had to remind Crowley that human babies need to be fed and changed, and Crowley would sneer.

“It’s like we’re Godparents, in a way,” Crowley had said, rubbing his eye with his free hand. “Y’know,” he waved his hand in a circular motion, “overseeing their upbringing.”

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose,” Aziraphale said. “Let’s just hope they’re more heaven incarnate.” Crowley smirked.

There was something soothing about holding a baby. He didn’t know about Crowley, but it was peaceful and Aziraphale could sit there all night and morning if he really wanted to with this infant on his chest. But someone had to organize these books before dawn, and someone else had to go.

The angel and the demon put the sleeping babies back in the basket, Aziraphale giving an extra effort into making sure everything was comfortable for them. Crowley grabbed and lifted the basket with more care than he did before, and headed for the door.

“Make sure to lock it on your way out,” Aziraphale told him.

“Yup.” Crowley unlocked the door and opened it to a dampened city. It had been raining and everything seemed brighter and new. The lights from the buildings and cars reflected off the glistening stones and the road was a mirror of everything above it. Crowley cleared his throat and turned around to Aziraphale who was watching him from across the room.

“You won’t mind if I come back?” He asked.

Aziraphale cocked his head. “When have I ever?”

“Mm, right.” Crowley bobbed his head and left, closing the door behind him without another word.

♦♦♦


	2. Settled Down in South Downs

Aziraphale stepped through the crowded room with a new book under his arm. Boxes stacked on boxes covered nearly all of the floor except for a pathway Aziraphale had organized that led from the doorway to his favorite chair. He sat down, dust emanating into the sunlight that spilled through the window. He had bought this chair centuries ago but it still never failed to meet his standards. He kept it in good condition, making sure the fabric never worn out or frayed (using a miracle or two to get rid of stains, specifically wine) and it seemed to be the only chair he chose to sit in for anything. It was a beautiful blue and gold wingback chair ― considered an antique now — Aziraphale had bought during the Victorian era. It used to sit in the bookshop, in his backroom, and he used it for anything close to relaxation. Reading, mostly, but sometimes used for enjoying a good cup of cocoa, and sometimes a good cup of wine with a certain guest. Aziraphale was the only one who sat in the chair, and Crowley and everyone else who visited the bookshop knew that. It was an unspoken subject, but it was easy to tell Aziraphale did not want the presence of someone else's behind in his favorite piece of furniture.

He adjusted himself in his seat but couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Something was poking at him, quite literally. He placed his book down on the arm of the chair and lifted himself up from the seat. He turned around. A small, gray, plastic horse, whose front feet were high in the air in a kicking motion, stared back with plain eyes. Aziraphale picked it up. He examined it, turning it side to side, noticing that the paint was weathered and the tail had been chewed on. He smiled slightly and sighed, walking to a stack of boxes near him. He placed the horse on the top box, standing it up, feet in the air in all its glory, as it was intended to. It stood in the sun, dust and boxes becoming its new home.

Aziraphale hadn’t had the chance to unbox this room yet. It was supposed to be his, “a study or something”, said Crowley. They had just moved in a couple days before and were not informed about having an extra room. Aziraphale suggested that this extra room should be Crowley’s. But his partner, being the selfless demon he was, suggested otherwise. He wanted the room to be of Aziraphale’s use and refused to let it be used for anything else. “For your books, they need to be put somewhere. Certainly don’t want to see them all over the cottage- and your desk can fit in the corner,” Aziraphale had recalled Crowley saying to him. He planned on decorating the room that day but he had found a book that he bought a few days earlier and now his plans changed. He hadn’t been able to read for a while, four days precisely, which was a while (to Aziraphale). He and Crowley had been busy, packing, boxing, and moving everything to their new cottage in South Downs, and then unpacking, unboxing and arranging. They both agreed this cottage would be the ideal living space for their small family, so, Aziraphale thought, the hassle would be worth it in the end. But right now, he didn’t want to touch another box.

Aziraphale sat back down and before grabbing his book, he inhaled deeply, taking in this new setting; the sight, the smell, the warmth. He loved it already, but his heart ached a little bit. No more Soho. No more Bookshop. He decided to rent it out for some extra money but couldn’t bring himself to completely sell it. He didn’t know when he could go back but he knew it was for the best. The reason he left it all behind was complicated for any other angel to understand but not necessarily for a human. He remembers it like it only happened a few weeks ago, still fresh in his mind, but it was so much longer ago than that. Aziraphale was always good at remembering things.

Crowley caught the corner of his eye as he poked his head into the room. Aziraphale perked up and smiled gently at him. Crowley scanned the room with a raised eyebrow until he met Aziraphale’s eyes and couldn’t help but to smile back.

“Thought you said you were unboxing, not reading,” said Crowley, making his way around towers of cardboard packages.

Aziraphale hummed. “Technically, I’m not actually reading, I’m just holding a book.”

The demon smirked. Smartass. Crowley approached Aziraphale and kneeled down beside the angel’s chair, resting his chin on the arm rest. He took his sunglasses off and hung them on his coat collar. Aziraphale smiled down on him the same way the sun smiled down on the flowers. They sat in comfortable silence, Crowley just staring up at Aziraphale like he was forbidden fruit. Aziraphale tapped him on the nose with the base of his book before opening it and averting his attention away from Crowley. Crowley decided to speak now that he was losing Aziraphale’s attention.

“I’m gonna take the boys out,” he said.

“Oh, alright. Where to?”

“I dunno, just around,” Crowley said. “Get them used to the area and maybe pick up some stuff from the store,” he shrugged, tracing his finger along the title letters on the cover of Aziraphale’s book.

“By ‘stuff’, you mean candy for the boys,” Aziraphale accused, side glancing down at Crowley.

“Yeah, the good stuff. If we give them sugar now, they’ll be knocked out by 8.”

  
Aziraphale chuckled and slightly shook his head, not exactly sure if Crowley was serious or not but it made him laugh. Crowley’s eyes softened, he loved it when he was able to make him laugh.

“And I suppose I can get things for dinner, too,” Crowley sighed, rolling his eyes sarcastically, hoping to make Aziraphale smile again. Aziraphale huffed and rolled his eyes, as well. “Yes, I suppose, you can.” They both grinned. The demon stood up and stepped around some boxes to stand in front of the window. Aziraphale lowered his book and turned his head to the side, watching Crowley. Crowley looked outside the window down into the yard on Adam and Warlock, who were supposed to be playing with their toys but had immigrated to the flower box and were now playing with dirt.

  
“Gremlins, they are,” Crowley reported out loud. “Getting their hands all dirty after their bath.”

  
“Putti,” Aziraphale corrected. “As long as they’re not pulling out your flowers, they are fine.” He gave a second thought. “Just make sure they’re clean before they come into the house.”

  
Crowley assured him we would. He turned around from the window to find the plastic horse Aziraphale had left on one of the boxes. He grabbed it and raised an eyebrow, and Aziraphale answered before he asked.

  
“One of the boys’ ”, he said. “Seems like they were playing in here and left it.”

  
“I assumed,” Crowley responded, flipping the toy around. “It’s probably Warlock’s because Adam doesn’t chew on his toys.”

  
Aziraphale nodded. He loved how observant he could be sometimes, not with objects and items, but with their kids. He knew them so well, and to Aziraphale, it showed he cared about them. When Crowley first brought them to Aziraphale, he was almost unsure if Crowley could provide for them, not in ways of food and a place to sleep, but in a more sentimental way. But now, Aziraphale knows him better than he has ever had over the 6,000 years he’s known him, and he can trust him with anything.

  
Crowley tucked the plastic horse in his coat pocket and walked towards the door. “Gremlins,” he repeated, smiling at his angel. He stopped at the doorway to put his sunglasses back on then looked behind his shoulder.

  
“We’ll be heading out then. We won’t be long.”

  
Aziraphale winked in a way of saying ‘okay, go along’. A smirk stretched across Crowley’s face, because Aziraphale had picked up winking from him but still didn't fully understand when or how to use winking in conversation and had used it in several unfitting situations. He winked back and left Aziraphale to his reading.

By the time Crowley stepped outside, Adam was digging in the garden box, looking for the toys that Warlock had buried in the dirt. Warlock, on the contrary, was continuing to bury the toys in the next garden box over.

  
“Oi, get outta there,” Crowley called out.

The boys jumped at the sound of dad, knowing they weren’t supposed to be playing, let alone digging, in the flower boxes. Warlock immediately dug up the toy he had just buried, set it on the grass, and turned around to face Crowley, greeting him with a polite smile. Adam whined, still rummaging his hands around in the dirt.

  
“Warlock hid all the toys,” complained Adam, putting on a pouty face he ever only put on for his parents.

  
“Hush,” Warlock hissed.

  
Crowley grabbed his keys from his pocket and started walking towards his Bentley.

  
“Well, I guess he’s going to have to find them when we get back. Let’s go.”

  
Suddenly smiles appeared on the little ones’ faces and they bounced to their feet. They had asked their dad if they could go out and get a treat since they’ve all been stuck in the house unboxing all day. Well, it wasn't really all day, they only spent the afternoon finding out what boxes went in which room, but to Adam and Warlock it was all day.

The boys were old enough to figure out that Crowley was the one who would give in easier if they asked for something. Aziraphale, not so much. Aziraphale was the leash on all three of them, he’d step in when it was time to stop. The principality had always told Crowley that he spoiled Adam and Warlock, especially when they asked for small, insignificant things, like a candy or a cheap toy from the gas station. Crowley could rarely bring himself to say no. And so, the boys would usually ask him.

Crowley unlocked the car and the children jumped into the back, buckling themselves in their carseats, ready to go. He sat in the front and looked over his shoulder to check if they had actually buckled themselves in, before he started the car.

“Right,” Crowley started, “we’re going to the grocery store to get stuff for dinner-”

“Nooo,” Warlock slumped dramatically in his carseat, frowning. “I don’t like the grocery stooore!”

Adam twiddled his fingers in his lap and looked out the window, unphased by Warlock and the fact that they were going to the grocery store. “The store has candy,” he simply said.

“That’s right,” Crowley chanted, looking in his rearview to give him a smirk.

Warlock’s scrunched face went back to normal when he heard the word ‘candy’. “Oh,” he said. “Okay, you can take us there, Papa.” Crowley held in a small scoff. He was planning on taking Warlock to the store whether or not he wanted to, but Warlock giving Crowley his permission to take him there made him want to laugh and say something along the lines of “of course, Your Majesty”.

The black Bentley pulled into the busy parking lot of a local grocery store and slowly made its way past the rows of cars, looking for an open spot. Crowley luckily found two parking spots right next to each other and positioned his car diagonally so that it took up both parking spots. Adam and Warlock unbuckled themselves as soon as their dad put the car into park, and hopped out. Adam looked at the yellow lines on the asphalt.

“Daddy doesn’t like it when you park like that, Papa,” Adam said, concerned, reaching for Crowley’s hand while walking across the parking lot.

“Daddy’s not here,” Warlock replied, reaching for Crowley’s other hand.

Crowley didn’t say anything, he wasn’t really sure what to say. He grabbed their little hands and walked them into the store.

He and Aziraphale had always secretly referred to their boys as their shoulder angel and shoulder devil ever since they were old enough to talk and began developing their own personalities. Adam had almost always been polite and obedient, and overall a pretty well behaved child compared to most. Although, Adam was very stubborn. Warlock could be well behaved too, if he wanted to. Warlock was polite and would follow rules when supervised, but broke the rules when no one was looking. He was also very good at covering up his tracks, so half the time Aziraphale and Crowley would never find out.

Now, Crowley could acknowledge his obnoxious parking and fix his mistakes to set a good example for his kids or he could just carry on and set a bad example, and possibly get snitched on by Adam. In all truth, Crowley didn't want to do either. Of course he wanted to set a good example but that meant he had to walk all the way back and that went against his “code”. Not like his “code” really mattered anymore. Ever since he took Adam and Warlock, he has broken and violated every rule within his “code”. Doesn’t

mean he shouldn’t put in the effort in trying.

“Boys,” he answered, “I park in two spots to keep the car from being damaged.”

Crowley grabbed a shopping cart and hosited both Adam and Warlock into the basket.

“And you really like your car, huh, Papa,” Adam asked.

“Yup,” Crowley winked.

“Makes sense,” Warlock admitted.

Just how he planned. Instead of actually fixing his actions, Crowley justified it in using a half truth. It was true he didn’t want his car to be damaged, but he also liked putting minor inconveniences into other people’s lives because it gave him a sense of satisfaction. And it was funny. In his opinion, he never really set a good or bad example.

While pushing the cart through the aisles, Crowley, being tall and lanky, had been repeatedly hitting his shins against the bar of the tray beneath the basket of the shopping cart. He tried to bring it to his recollection if this was his doing or not. Usually when things inconvenienced him, it was him who brought it upon himself.

“What do you want for dinner?” Crowley walked by the pastas and the sauces, hoping to find something that looked appetizing for two children, a demon, and an angel.

Adam recommended chicken nuggets. Warlock suggested the pop tarts that were advertising at the front of the store. Crowley decided on a casserole. He picked up some of the ingredients around the store before he noticed eyes watching him from several directions. He glanced to his right side and saw a woman from across the aisle looking at him from the side of her eye with an expression he couldn’t really put his finger on. Admiration? Interest? Crowley’s eyes shot to his other side, and saw another woman side glancing at him in a similar manner. He furrowed his brow.

“Can we get candy now?” Adam’s question brought Crowley’s attention back. He adjusted his posture and looked around one last time, exhaling.

“What’s the magic word,” Crowley asked.

“Mercury!” Warlock and Adam answered.

As Crowley walked across the store, he became more aware of how many people were looking at him. How many women were smiling at him. Crowley felt almost umfortable. It’s probably just because he’s new in town and people are getting a good first look, he thought. He didn’t have a single clue, but he made sure his sunglasses were covering his eyes just in case.

The cart was pushed into an aisle and the young boys were already pointing out which candies they wanted. Crowley noticed a woman a little further down the aisle, tall and skinny and blonde as ever. Her hair had obviously been dyed and she wore what looked like expensive jewelry and attire. When she noticed him also, her eyes widened a bit and she shrugged a shoulder to hide her smile, quickly looking away. Crowley raised an unsubtle eyebrow.

Adam and Warlock wanted several candies for themselves but Crowley told them they could only have one each, so they took a moment and thought about which candy they wanted the most. Crowley scanned the shelf, too. He thought it would be nice if he got Aziraphale something from the candy shelf. Not that he wanted to be nice or anything, he just wanted to see his angel smile at him when he came home and perhaps even give him a hug or a kiss.

“Hi, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” A woman's voice caught him off guard. Crowley turned and found himself in front of the blonde woman, who scanned him head to toe and smiled amiably. “Are you new to the area?” she asked.

Crowley stuttered, still a little off guard, and wished that Aziraphale was there because Aziraphale was the one who did the small talk, not Crowley.

“Uh, yeah- yeah, we just moved in a couple days ago.”

“Wow, that’s great! It’s always fun when a new family moves in.” She held out her hand. “Linda.”

Crowley shook her hand. “Cr- uh, Anthony.” He nodded, confirming that, yes, his name is indeed Anthony.

Linda held onto his hand until Crowley finally pulled away, sneering a bit and giving a short fake laugh. Linda smiled and directed her attention to the boys in the shopping basket. She hunched over and waved to them, a little too friendly, Crowley thought.

“And what are your names?” She asked, smiling.

They answered one at a time.

“Adam.”

“And Warlock,” they said, a little quieter than usual. They were shy around strangers.

“Oh, what cute names! Are you two in school yet?”  
This is why Crowley hated small talk. Too many questions. He just wanted to go home.

“They’ll be starting in September,” he said, trying to hurry this conversation along. “Good talk but we better get home and start making dinner.”

She raised her eyebrows and gave a non-duchenne smile. “Oh, haha! Of course, the wife doesn’t want the three of you out for too long, haha!”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond, but he forced a smile. He liked humans for the most part, but for some reason this one wasn’t working for him.

“Don’t have a wife,” he said, grabbing the shopping cart. Linda held back her hopeful grin and reached for her purse, pulling out a paper.

“Before you go,” she spoke out, “You should join the school’s PTA.”

Crowley scanned the paper she held out to him. He spotted some clip art of hands and the word “PTA” . He didn’t know what PTA meant but he was curious. But not curious enough to ask.

She continued, “we love meeting new families and everyone would be excited to have a new member.” He took it and gave a smile along the lines of Thank you and Please, let me leave this conversation now. She returned a smile as he tucked the paper under some boxes he had in the cart, and steered the shopping cart out of the aisle.

Crowley paid for the groceries, putting the paper in one of the plastic bags, and loaded everything into the Bentley, along with the kids. Before starting the car, he unwrapped their candies and gave it to them, warning the boys to not make a mess in the back of his car or else no turtle ninjas. Adam corrected him, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Potato, potato.

After driving for a while, Crowley decided to put on some music. Crowley was mouthing out the lyrics to “Under Pressure” when a fuzz suddenly came over the radio. He looked in the rear view mirror and saw that Warlock had dozed off and Adam was looking out the window but turned his head towards the front when he heard the static drowning out Freddie Mercury and David Bowie. Crowley raised an eyebrow. He was listening to a CD, there should be no reason for white noise. This has never happened before except for when-

“Crowley, Darling~”

Crolwey’s eyes went wide and he almost slammed on the brakes. Shit, not now! He looked at Adam through the mirror, who was visibly confused and concerned about the voice in the radio speaking to his dad. Adam opened his mouth but Crowley spoke before he did.

“Dagon! What a pleasant surprise!”

Crowley spoke loudly over the radio as he sped up, going almost 30 kilometres over the speed limit, hoping to get home fast enough to get the boys out of the car before they say anything that might make Hell suspicious.

“Pleasant is the least of it, Crowley, you-”

“Aww, y’know what? Right now’s not a good time. Little busy right now,” he replied.

The sharp turns of the car and the shouting coming from Crowley was enough to stir Warlock awake.

“Busy? You are not-”

“Yeah! Busy, uh, planning World War III. Y’know, uh,” Crowley finally screeched into the driveway and put the car in park. “Doing the Master’s work and all that.” Crowley snapped his fingers at the boys and pointed at the door, indicating to them to get out of the car. The boys were still quite baffled but quickly unbuckled themselves and exited the car without a word. They ran inside and found Aziraphale in the living room, reading a book. They ran to him until he stopped them in their tracks, telling them to take off their shoes before they stepped onto the carpet. Adam and Warlock retraced their steps, took off their shoes and placed them by the door, then proceeded to run back to Aziraphale.

“Where’s Papa?” Aziraphale asked as Warlock bounced onto the couch.

“He’s talking to the car!” said Warlock.

“No, the radio,” corrected Adam.

“The radio? Oh, goodness, that’s codswallop,” Aziraphale told them. But then it clicked. He stood up and went to the window, looking out into the driveway. Crowley definitely was talking to the radio.

An overwhelming wave of fear came over Aziraphale but there was nothing he could do to help. If Hell ever found out that Crowley, a demon, and Aziraphale, an angel, were associating with one another, let alone living together and having relations, the both of them would be in serious trouble. What sort of trouble, Aziraphale wasn’t sure, but he knew he wanted no part of it.

“Um, how about you boys go upstairs and pick out a movie before we have dinner,” Aziraphale urged. Warlock was happy to do so and Adam followed.

Aziraphale waited by the window anxiously until Crowley finally left his car, with the groceries, and started making his way to the door. Crowley was startled to find Aziraphale right in front of him as soon as he opened the door.

“Do they know?” Aziraphale whispered, obviously looking concerned.

  
“Who?”

  
“Hell! Do they know? About us? About them?” Aziraphale made a gesture towards the downstairs area where the boys had gone.

“How’d you know-”

“The boys told me you were talking to the radio!”

“No, we’re fine,” Crowley reassured him. “I had it under control, they don’t suspect a thing. We’re ok.”

Crowley placed the groceries on the ground and took his coat off.

“You’ve been filling out your monthly reports, right? Did you make sure they actually got sent through?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but to worry.

“Yes, Aziraphale.” Crowley hung up his coat in the closet, then turned around to face him. He put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a small, but warm, smile. “We’re fine.”

Aziraphale hugged him. “Oh dear, I just worry, I’m sorry.”

Crowley smiled, rolling his eyes at how sensitive his angel can be. He hugged him back. Crowley would have to make sure to reassure Aziraphale throughout the week to ease his anxiety. “Let’s not worry about that, it’s almost time for dinner.”

“Right, dinner!” Aziraphale pulled away from the hug, already feeling better about the overall situation. He trusted Crowley to keep them safe. Crowley retrieved the bag of groceries he left on the ground and brought them to the kitchen.


End file.
